you were never gone
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: "You know you have to go in there, you swore on blood that you'd be there. Moreover, you swore with more blood, some that wasn't yours - his blood. And that blood outweighs your doubts." Eddie/OFC, mentions of Richie/Stan. Rating for future chapters and mentions of scenes from the book.
1. Chapter 1

The cigarette's flavor against your tongue is now more bland than ever. You've been smoking Talon brand's sweet original flavor for almost twenty years, and this is the first time they've ever lost their sweetened, mocha-like richness. Of course, you know that this is because of all the shit weighing on your mind, but cigarettes have always brought you peace. Right now, though, they remind you of the brewing war.

You turn the steering wheel into the parking lot for the restaurant that Mike had indicated in the phone call and see the red neon sign centered over the store. Your heart sinks. You're not ready for this. Truly you're not ready for the ones inside of the restaurant - well, for _one_ person in the restaurant.

It isnt' that you don't want to see him, but what would you say after all this time? What words could you say that would possibly undo all the time you'd missed, all the opportunities between the two of you squandered by your departure for school?

What could you say now that would make up for that? _Could_ anything truly make up for all that time?

You sigh heavily, shifting the gear into park as you rest your head against the steering wheel. You know you have to go in there, you swore on blood that you'd be there. Moreover, you swore with more blood, some that wasn't yours - _his _blood. And that blood outweighs your doubts.

One foot and then the other exit the car and you straighten your leather jacket before mussing your hair and taking deep, deliberate breaths as you move each foot forward in turn towards the restaurant. And then, before you're ready, you're at the entrance.

You open the door and the young, Chinese woman at the register knows why you're there so you don't have to speak. You nod in her direction and round the welcome area, heading towards the room Mike had described would be the meeting place. The reunion table. A dinner for losers.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the first person from your past come into your twenty-seven-year-changed perspective, and that's Mike. He hasn't changed a tick - same short, tight curls he'd had when you were thirteen, and the same dimples, albeit softened more than they'd been.

The second person you catch sight of is Beverly, and she's more gorgeous than ever. Her red hair is bobbed now, and her features more striking than you had ever seen them and you hate that she looks better now than before. You've always been jealous of her looks - moreover, you're envious of how much attention the others treat her to, but only one person's attention matters more than the others.

The next sighting is Richie and your heart drops at the sight of him. He truly did "grow into" his looks as Beverly predicted he would, you suddenly recall her saying. He looks handsome and grown and you could never, ever forget your best friend. You missed him, you recognize, and a small smile upturns the corners of your mouth.

Next you see Bill, and he looks absolutely fantastic. You recall your youthful assistant using a phrase like "glow up," and you realize that this one hundred percent describes Bill. He is worn-in and rugged now, much gruffer than the soft features of the young boy with the sharp jawline you once knew.

You know who is next, but you are utterly unprepared for the sight of him, and you know this because when you _do_ see him, your entire body shivers with the view. Your eyes well with tears because here he is at last, his large brown eyes swallowing you whole even though he doesn't see you yet. Combed, soft dark hair framing his slender face and toned neck makes you realize that he might be almost thirty years senior to when you last saw him, but this is still him. This is still Eddie. This is still _your_ Eddie. And, goddammit, you are still his.

Your chin quivers with the flood of memories you receive. Nights spent in blanket forts. Breakfasts with your father. Camping. Teaching each other how to dance properly. The look on his face when he saw you at prom. Your first time. Your last time. The morning you left for school. Everything. Nothing. Every second in between. You had remembered a bit before this moment, but now you recall every solitary thing which happened between the pair of you and you can't do this.

You can't do this.

You see that they have all turned their eyes to you by now, and Eddie steps forward until he is all you see.

And still you can't.

You back away slowly, your hand on your forehead and you walk briskly outside to the front stoop to think. Your hands fumble in the pocket of your jacket, searching for your cigarettes. Once they find one and you hold it between your lips, it takes a second before you're able to light it. A presence appears beside you, and you don't look over at them. You don't have to to know who it is.

"Hey," Stan's much older tone of voice says from beside you, and you nod at him.

"Hi," you manage, albeit weakly.

His hands are nervously shoved into his pockets, his jacket cotton stretch, you notice. Stan has always been about comfort. "You _can _do this, you know."

It's as if his mind and yours have reconnected and he knows the anxiety you're feeling. "You know?" you ask, and he nods.

"I thought I couldn't do it either, but the object of _my_ affections isn't literally standing inside right now...not like yours. He's in there right now wondering why the hell you just ran away."

"I'm not 'running away,'" you defend, taking a sweet drag off of a cigarette you can once again taste. "I'm just...breathing out here."

"Ironic," Stan states, and you grin at his joke. You've always grinned at his jokes. "So...you coming? We need you, yeah. But _he_ needs you more...and _you_ need _him_."

You know he's right. Dammit, he's always right. "Thanks for coming out here to get me...I don't know if I would've actually gone back inside."

"_I_ do. And you would've. You two will always find each other. Always."

You needed that encouragement, rising from the curb and stomping out the butt of the cig you've just finished. "Thanks," you state, clapping him on the shoulder. "You ready? I am."

Stan smiles. "Of course! I'll be right behind you, Evie," he says, and you straighten yourself, tousling your hair before stepping back inside, feeling the presence behind you disappear.

_Eddie, I'm home._


	2. Chapter 2

You're ready. You've _always _been ready.

_Left foot, right foot._

He's inside right now, he's waiting for you. He has always been waiting for you.

_Left foot, right foot_.

Shit, _you've_ always been waiting for _him_. But none of this matters now. What matters is getting your stupid, slow ass in there and fucking facing the love of your life and telling him that you _still_ love him. That you always have. And that you're here now. The two of you are back together again.

And you'll never leave him again.

_Right foot, left foot. Blink_.

You round the final corner, your hand instinctively tousling your hair. You straighten your jacket as your eyes move from their gaze at the floor and come face to face with Richie.

He stares at you, tears somewhat welling in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you. "E...Evie?" he says, a slight crack changing his voice.

"Richie," you say, eyes meeting his and a smile crossing your lips.

"You got fucking hot," he breathes on an exhale.

You grin. "Beep-beep." He laughs at that and encircles you in the tightest hug you've ever received. You return the sentiment, feeling your best friend within your arms in a way you never had before.

"I'm sorry - I'm hogging you," he states, releasing you and setting you back onto the ground. You clap him on the arm and continue your biggest-ever grin as Beverly comes to you.

"Bev," you greet her, touching the ends of her hair, "I see you kept the short look for all this time."

"Of course I did," she agrees, smiling at your own, longer hair. "And you kept the long look."

"Stick with the devil you know, right?"

"Right."

She hugs you firmly. The two of you have never hugged before, so this is the strangest feeling you've felt in a long time. But it's not strange. It's normal, this is normal, and the two of you have come so far.

Bill is next, and your greeting is silent. Neither of you know what to say to your reunion, so neither of you speaks a word. You know that fruitless would be any words you could say, so you don't. You just hug briefly and then shake hands as if conducting some sort of business transaction.

Your reunion with Mike passes by without a hitch. Mike and you have always gotten along so, so well. Now is no different.

You look around for Stan, but he is nowhere within immediate sight, so you let it go. _He's probably just in the bathroom_. It's the next hello you've been readying yourself for, but nothing readies you. You're not ready. You'd have never thought you'd need to be reintroduced to your life's one love, yet here you stand, trying not to shit yourself, or, worse yet, _cry_.

Eddie approaches you and inside you're dying. You're dying because how could you have ever missed him, how could you have ever truly lost him? He has always been by your side, even throughout those twenty-seven years. He was never, truly gone.

"Hey," he says weakly, his gaze never leaving yours. _Goddammit, those brown eyes. My weakness_.

"Hi," you return, and he doesn't smile. You can tell he is struggling, too, struggling because how could a reunion between the pair of you be a thing? You were never supposed to leave each other's sides, so why are you having to talk to each other as old friends? Nothing has changed. You're still Evelyn O'Cleary, and he is still Edward Kaspbrak, your one, true love and the only thing in your life you've ever really desired to keep close. And you lost him.

Well, that's not _entirely_ true. He was never lost. He was merely, temporarily erased from your life, but something was left behind, some sort of imprint he had left on your soul and you on his that had always and would always connect the pair of you, even when separated for nearly three decades. Every decision you had made in that time had led to this, and now, you would never, ever let him out of your grasp again.

"You look..." he begins to say, but his voice trails off as the words fail him. Still, you know what he was about to say. _The same. Like yourself. Just like the Evie I remember_.

"And _you_ look...as well," you return, and, at last, you see some semblance of a smile cross his perfect, thin lips. _Like yourself. The same. The Eddie I remember_.

He looks for a moment like he is holding back, which he is, and you know it's because he wants to embrace you. But not here. Not right now. So he doesn't, and you're left wanting.

Once again you glance over your shoulder for Stan, but, again, you don't. _He'll reappear when he's ready_.

"Right, well, this couldn't be more awkward," Richie blurts out, and you're grateful for the interruption. "Like, should we all leave the room, or...?"

"Beep-beep, Richie," Beverly says before turning to Ben to share laughs.

Richie throws up his hands. "Look, all I'm saying is that whatever _that_ just was, wasn't the Eddie or Evie _I_ remember. They would've been all holding hands, and kissy, and cuddly, and just downright disgusting - "

You elbow him in the ribs, hard. He stops short, and you recall your last day of school before the summer of 1989, the summer where everything changed.

**::::**

**::::**

You were just finishing up your end class and then the bell rang. You were already halfway out the back door to the classroom, but when the bell rang, you were out. _Math. Math can fuck off_. _When am I gonna need this shit in life anyway?_

It was June of 1989, and school was out for the summer. _Thank the good Lord_. For fuck's sake, you'd been ready for this since the first day of school. Time to hang out with friends. Time to hang out with Eddie.

You close your locker for the last time, proud of having rigged it to always open without the combination lock. You never could quite get the hang of combination locks.

"Eddie says they're gonna slice the tip of your d-d-dick off," you hear Bill stutter from behind you, and you grin. Showtime.

You sling the arm of your backpack over your shoulder and turn to catch up, ending up right beside Eddie.

"Hey," you say to him, willies tingling you from the top of your head down to your toes when he glances beside himself - and slightly upward, since you were a bit taller than him - and sees you.

"Hi," he greets with a wide smile that gives you the...the feelings. The ones your dad had tried to warn you would come, but you knew you had to deal with those eventually as you got older. You're thirteen now. You're a woman, and your feelings for Eddie were very adult. "How was it?"

"Shit," you respond and he chuckles. You're alive from the sound of his laugh - it waters you, nourishes your soul and you had once promised yourself to keep him laughing meant that you would continue to live.

" - 'where's the beef?'" you hear Richie finish the punchline to his ridiculous joke, and you playfully punch him in the shoulder. "Evie, why?"

"Because you took it too far, that's why," you explain, and he seemed to get the hint for just a moment.

Your group passes by Henry Bowers and the gang, all giving hard glares at Richie...though only you and he know why.

"Think they'll sign my yearbook?" he asks, and you chuckle. "'Dear Richie, sorry for taking a hot, steaming dump in your backpack last month. Have a nice summer!'"

"If only Bowers could _be_ that nice," you comment, straightening your jacket as you see him giving you the eyes. Henry had once tried his hand at getting you, but that hadn't panned out quite like he had wanted, so now you, too, were on his shit list. Not that you minded. Only one person's list mattered and as long as you were on it, nothing could touch you.

Once you all were outside, the guys dump their backpacks full of notes and notebooks into the garbage, but you don't.

"Seriously, Evie?" Stan asks, noting that you weren't joining in on the fun. "You're keeping that shit _again_?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Just the history stuff. I like it."

"What about the math notes?"

"_What_ math notes?" you ask, and the guys, namely Eddie, laugh. "That class was a fucking joke."

"No, Mr Saunders was a fucking joke," Eddie corrects you, to which you nodded in agreement. "That guy only gave a shit about his mustache - "

" - which took up half his fucking gorilla face," you finish, and the two of you share an intimate laugh.

"Now that you two are done sucking each other's dicks," Richie interjects, making the two of you blush madly, "don't make plans with me. Tomorrow I start my training."

"What training?" Eddie questions.

"Street-fighting." You knew he was referring to the arcade game, but, regardless, it sounded just like a typical Richie answer.

Eddie grins at Richie's response, and your heart stops at the sight of it. "Is that how you want to spend your summer?" he asks. "Inside of an arcade?"

"Beats spending it inside your mother. OHHHH!" Richie raises an arm to give you a high-five, but you reject it, grabbing his wrist and moving his arm back down to his side.

"I'm not doing that," you say as Stan begins to speak.

"What about the quarry?"

You and Eddie were about to voice your compliance with that suggestion when Bill speaks next.

"Guys, we have the B-B-Barrens."

Stan sighs, giving Bill a supportive expression. "Right."

You turn to say something to Eddie, but notice his eyes elsewhere.

"Betty Ripsom's mom..." he croons, and your heart dies at the sight of the woman waiting so desparately for her daughter to come out of the school with all the other kids leaving for summer. This was an everyday thing now, and every day, you all die a bit more at the sight of her.

The others have comments about this, but you can't hear them over the blare of your own instincts. They tell you to reach out for Eddie's hand where it lay at his side, and you do, and he twitches at the touch...but he doesn't retract his hand. He merely glances sideways at you and soon he is responding. Your hands are nearly intertwined when -

" - probably smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear," Richie says, and Eddie gestures at him, waving him away.

"Shut up," he cringes, "that's fricken disgusting."

"She's not _dead_," Bill corrects Richie, "s-she's m-m-missing."

"Sorry, Bill," Richie affirms, suddenly serious, "she's missing." Bill starts to walk away and the rest of you begin to follow. "You know, the Barrens aren't that bad. Who _doesn't_ love splashing around in shitty water?"

Henry Bowers is suddenly there, grabbing Richie's backpack and yanking him backwards until he hits Stan and both hit the ground. While Patrick tosses Stan's yamaka into the passing bus, Belch performs his namesake in Eddie's face causing him to gag, and you are shoved into Bill's shoulder by Henry as he passes.

"You," Bill begins defensively, "s-s-s-suck, B-Bowers."

Henry turns around. "You s-s-say somethin', B-B-B-Billy?" He stalks towards Bill and you instinctively group near him. "You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough." He pauses after catching sight of his abusive policeman father, so he loosens up. "Summer's gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends." He licks his palm and wipes it on the side of Bill's face before he and his friends motor off to Bowers' car.

"Wish _he'd_ go missing," Richie comments.

"He's probably the one doing it," Eddie states, but you shake your head.

"It's never the person you most suspect," you chime in, and Eddie nods affirmatively.

Of course, Henry Bowers was the least of your current attentions. Right now, all that matters is the boy standing beside you and the fact that his fingers are currently interwined with yours, digits locked together for comfort and safety.

And common affections.


End file.
